


face for the radio

by lotts (LottieAnna)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, M/M, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 10:16:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14235111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/pseuds/lotts
Summary: “Are you usually up this early, or is this a special occasion?”“Unfortunately, this is just my life,” Mat says. “Does that mean I’m in your target demographic?”Anthony nods, then grabs a paper cup. “Which means your coffee’s on the house.”“Pinch me,” Mat says, which earns him a smile.





	face for the radio

**Author's Note:**

> IF YOU FOUND THIS THROUGH GOOGLING, KNOW ANYONE MENTIONED IN THIS STORY PERSONALLY, OR ARE MENTIONED YOURSELF: please, please click away. This is a work of fiction and nothing written in this story is true. Any accurate information used in this story is publicly available information about public figures, the rest is made up, 100%.
> 
> Thanks to Ash and Ang and Deja and Rachel for reading this!!!

_ one. _

Mat’s probably heard every Brooklyn hipster joke there is, at this point. 

It’s his fault, and he can trace his mistake back to the moment he’d told people he’d found a place in Brooklyn—not just New York, but Brooklyn specifically, even though the difference between those places is negligible when you’re in BC, unless you’re Mat’s friends and family, who want to make jokes about thrift stores and weird beards and bicycles. 

Whatever. Mat lives in Brooklyn, and his family hasn’t managed to wrap their heads around the fact that he’s only there because he got a great deal on a lease there and he’s right by the Subway. 

He’s been here for a few months, and he’s come to the conclusion that Brooklyn is hardly different from Manhattan. Or at least, the part of Brooklyn where Mat lives isn’t that different from the parts of Manhattan where Mat hangs out, which is probably not representative of all of Manhattan, but still. 

“Once you get below 14th street, it’s really not any better on the Island, and it’s cheaper here,” Mat tries to explain to Dante. 

Dante finds that hilarious, for some reason, and Mat rolls his eyes as he waits by the Subway stop. He debates just going underground and leaving Dante hanging, but he figures he should be nice. 

“I can’t believe it only took you two months to totally forget your roots, man,” Dante says. “‘Below 14th street,’ who says shit like that?” 

“It’s the best way to describe it!” Mat protests. 

“You sound like a character from—I don’t know, Gossip Girl, or whatever.” 

Mat considers telling Dante that he’s been to the Upper East Side maybe twice in his entire time here, but he figures that won’t help his case, and anyway, Dante would probably just roast him for knowing that much about Gossip Girl anyway. “Do you even watch my show? My co-host makes fun of me for being Canadian all the time. I’m representing our people.” 

“When was the last time you had Timmies?” Dante says. 

“I’ve been to Tim Horton’s more here than I ever did in Canada,” Mat says. “And there are, like, two.” 

“Good,” Dante says. “Don’t forget who you are, even on the downtown R-train, or whatever.” 

“I’m in Brooklyn, I’m going to Manhattan, I’m not gonna be taking a downtown train, for the billionth time,” Mat says. “Anyway, I’m gonna be late and not have time for coffee if I don’t—” 

“And you’re already forgetting that Canadian politeness, because you’re a busy New Yorker,” Dante says. 

“Oh my god,” Mat says. “A woman with a stroller glared at me because I was waiting for the light to change. I technically saw a kid jaywalk who couldn’t even  _ walk.”  _

“And I bet you didn’t even apologize to her,” Dante says. 

“I said sorry,” Mat says. “I even threw in an ‘eh.’” 

“Okay, fine, you’re not completely hopeless,” Dante says. 

“Good.”

“Alright, have a good day at work,” Dante says. 

“I will,” Mat says. “What time is it there, dude?” 

“2AM,” Dante says, like that’s a normal hour to be awake. It used to be for Mat, too, but now he’s a newbie broadcaster, which means he goes to bed at 10 and wakes up before the sun. Thankfully journalism school had done a good job preparing him to do good work on very little sleep. 

“Go to bed,” Mat says. “See you, man.” 

“So long,” Dante says, and Mat hangs up. 

The phone call had lasted longer than expected, if only by a few minutes, but Mat’s playing it close to the deadline this morning already. It’s already almost 5, which means that he’s not gonna have time to stop off at the Penn Station Tim Horton’s, and since he still refuses to buy Dunkin Donuts coffee—because whatever the fuck Dante might say, he’s still got some Canadian pride—he’s probably gonna be stuck shelling out the extra dollar for shitty Starbucks, which isn’t ideal, but the coffee places around here don’t open ‘til 8, because they’re there for hipsters, not commuters. 

Except when Mat looks up, there’s a light on in the place across the street. 

There are no cars coming, and the walk sign is lit up, so Mat doesn’t really think that much as he makes his way across the pavement. There are a few people out and about—joggers, dog walkers, others who have to get up at disgusting hours for work—but it still feels empty, like the day hasn’t really started yet. 

Mat can see that there are still chairs on tables, once he gets closer, but the sign on the door is flipped to ‘Open,’ and when Mat walks in, there’s a guy standing behind the counter, who looks kind of like every other barista in Brooklyn—hipster glasses, a slouchy hat that’s more stylish than warm, rolled-up sleeves on the flannel he’s wearing under his apron, probably about Mat’s age, and also, very cute.

“Are you—you guys are actually open?” Mat asks, blinking. He half-wonders if he’s dreaming. 

“Yeah,” the guy—Anthony, according to his nametag—says. “We’re changing up our hours. Starting today, we open at 4:50.” 

“Guess it’s my lucky day,” Mat says, and he gives Anthony a small smile. 

“You live around here?” Anthony says. “Not to be weird, just—trying to build up our morning crowd, seeing if we can attract more regulars.” 

“Yeah, I do,” Mat says. “Right across the street.” 

“And are you usually up this early, or is this a special occasion?” 

“Unfortunately, this is just my life,” Mat says. “Does that mean I’m in your target demographic?” 

Anthony nods, then grabs a paper cup. “Which means your coffee’s on the house.” 

“Pinch me,” Mat says, which earns him a smile. 

“That, I can’t do,” he says. “Room for cream?” 

“Please,” Mat says. 

He nods, then fills up the cup before handing it to Mat. “Lids, milk, and sugar are over by the door.” 

“Thank you so much,” Mat says, and the smell alone is enough to wake him up a little. He digs into his pocket and pulls out a dollar before dropping it in the tip jar. “I’m definitely coming back here.” 

“You haven’t even tasted the coffee,” Anthony says, smirking. 

“I have a sense for these things,” Mat says. “Also, you’re the only place around here that’s open, so.” 

“Fair enough,” Anthony says, smiling a little wider, and Mat’s too tired to stop himself from staring for a second too long before he goes to add milk and sugar. 

As he’s heading out the door, he takes a sip. “No, yeah, definitely coming back here.” 

“Sweet,” Anthony says. “Have a good morning.” 

“I think I already am,” Mat says, then gives Anthony one last grin before heading out the door. 

 

_ two. _

Mat doesn’t hold any illusions about himself. Like, he’s on TV, sure, but this is New York, where people see famous people all the time, so it’s not like the guy who does the morning news gets stopped on the street regularly, and when it does happen, it’s usually people his parents’ age who live out on Long Island. So, Mat’s kind of surprised when a very fit-looking man stops in the middle of his run to ask for an autograph, but he figures people who are up this early voluntarily have limited options when it comes to TV. Anyway, Mat’s a professional, so he’s fine to talk to a fan at any hour of the day, even if he hasn’t had coffee yet.   

“That a buddy of yours?” Tito—who’s been ‘Tito’ instead of ‘Anthony’ for exactly two weeks, as of this morning—asks, when Mat walks in to find a cup of coffee, complete with milk and sugar, ready and waiting for him on the counter. 

“What?” Mat asks, not bothering to grab a lid before he takes a sip. 

“The guy you were talking to,” Tito says. 

Mat swallows the coffee in his mouth. “Oh,” he says. “Nah, he just recognized me.” 

Tito furrows his brow. “And you didn’t recognize him?” 

“No, I mean—he was, like, a fan.” Mat shrugs. 

Tito squints at him. “You have fans?” 

“Wow, rude.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Tito says. “Are you famous? Did I miss something?” 

“I mean, I’m on TV,” Mat says. 

Tito blinks at him. “What?” 

“I’ve definitely told you this,” Mat says. 

“You told me you  _ work _ in TV,” Tito says. “Not that you’re  _ on  _ TV.” 

“I told you I’m a journalist,” Mat says. 

“I thought you were writing shit up,” Tito says. “Oh my god, I’m telling my manager to get a TV in here.” 

“What?” 

“You support our business, we support our customers,” Tito says. “What time are you on?” 

“I mean, in the morning,” Mat says. 

Tito rolls his eyes. “Time  _ slot. _ So I can make sure it’s playing in here.” 

“Please don’t,” Mat says. 

“Why not?”

“Because you’re just gonna make fun of me,” Mat says. 

“No, I’m not, I promise,” Tito says. “I just wanna watch my favorite customer on TV.”

“Oh, so I’m your favorite?” Mat says, grinning a little, and he means it as a joke, but it still makes his heart do something funny, hearing Tito say that. 

“Shut up,” Tito says, rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling too, this fond thing that really doesn’t do anything to stop Mat’s stupid sped-up heart rate. 

“It’s on at 9AM,” Mat admits. “You seriously don’t have to put it on. It’s just a morning show, and some hockey coverage.”

“Joke’s on you, because I love hockey,” Tito says. 

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Tito says. “I’m from just outside Montreal.” 

“I’m from BC,” Mat says, wondering how this never came up, even though, in hindsight, Tito’s very Quebec accent should’ve given something away. 

“No shit,” Tito says. “I knew you were too nice to be American.” 

“Oh, so you think I’m nice, eh?” Mat says, grinning a bit. 

“Nice enough that I wanna watch your show,” Tito says. 

Mat’s smile widens. “I’ll try and give you something worth watching, then.” 

“I’m sure you will,” Tito says, and it sounds like there’s some kind of implication there. Mat’s not really sure what it is, or what he wants it to be, but he kind of digs the way it sounds, all the same. 

 

_ three. _

Mat gets in the habit of stopping by Tito’s twice a day, and he says it’s mostly about the coffee, but he thinks they both know that it’s more about the company. 

The cafe is a lot more pleasant than Mat’s apartment. The WiFi isn’t great, and sometimes it gets kind of crowded, but Tito lets Mat use the outlets behind the counter and pull up a stool, and there have only been a few near-miss incidents involving spilled coffee and Mat’s laptop. 

Plus, Mat’s productive there. Like, sure, he spends a fair amount of time bothering Tito, but when Tito gets busy, Mat feels lame just scrolling through Twitter, or whatever, so he, like, actually works. 

It’s more fun when the cafe is slow and Mat doesn’t have too much work to do, though. Tito’s fun to talk to. 

“I have a question,” Tito says. “Your co-anchor—when she gets all… y’know, is that, like, an act? Or is she like that off-camera?”

“What do you mean?” Mat asks, easily distracted from the email chain he was passively reading. 

“I mean, when she made that comment about your haircut—” 

“Oh,” Mat says, turning a little red. “Uh, I mean, it’s not like—like, she’s just teasing, I think.” 

“So you two aren’t—” 

“God, no,” Mat says. “She’s got a super long-term boyfriend and stuff, and it’s just—no. It’s not a thing.” 

“Alright,” Tito says. “And what about you?” 

“What about me?” Mat asks. 

“Are you—do you have one?” 

“Do I have—”

“A girlfriend,” Tito says. “I don’t know, just wondering.” 

“Oh,” Mat says. “No, I’m not—I don’t have a girlfriend.” 

“Cool,” Tito says, suddenly focusing very hard on cleaning the espresso machine. 

“Or a boyfriend,” Mat says. “At the moment.” 

“But you have? In the past?” 

Mat nods. “Uh, yeah. You?” 

“Same,” Tito says. 

“Alright,” Mat says. “That’s—cool.” 

“Cool,” Tito says. 

There’s an uncomfortable silence, and Mat’s starting to wonder if he’s gonna have to pretend he has a reason to leave, but thankfully, another customer walks in, so Mat muffles a sigh of relief as Tito starts to take their order. 

By the time he’s done, the awkwardness has subsided, and everything is, like, mostly back to normal, and if Mat’s heart is beating a little faster than usual when Tito’s hand brushes his, he can pretend it’s because of the caffeine. 

 

_ four. _

It’s been fun having Dante in town, even if Mat’s losing a significant amount of sleep because of it. 

Dante’s not, like, demanding to go out every night, or anything, but it doesn’t feel fair to keep him on the shitty schedule Mat’s stuck to, so Mat ends up staying out past midnight, sleeping for a few hours, then waking up bright and early to get to the show the next morning. 

“Oh my god,” Tito says, when Mat walks—or really, stumbles—into the cafe that morning. “No offense, but you look like shit.” 

“How much caffeine can you pack into one cup?” Mat says, not even bothering to be offended. “I need all of it.” 

“There’s not enough espresso in the world,” Tito says, but he gets to work pulling shots for Mat anyway, because he’s a literal angel, probably. 

“Why do I make the choices I do,” Mat says. “I’m so tired. I’m so, so tired, and so hungover, and I feel like I’m going to fall over and and just, like, die.” 

“Well, don’t do that in my shop,” Tito says. 

“Right, health code violation,” Mat says. 

Tito laughs, which makes Mat feel a little more human, and then he hands Mat the coffee, which helps even more. 

He maybe downs it in one gulp. 

He’s really, really,  _ really _ tired. 

“Oh my god,” Tito says, some combination of amused and horrified. “Let me get you another for the road.” 

“Please,” Mat says.

Tito just gives him a large cup of normal coffee, this time. “Dude, take a nap today.” 

“Maybe,” Mat says. “We’ll see, I have a friend in town.” 

“Okay, well, your friend probably doesn’t want you walking around like a zombie all day either,” Tito says. 

“Fair enough,” Mat says, before he takes a sip of the coffee. “Oh my god, I love you.” 

“Are you talking to me or the coffee?” Tito says lightly. 

Mat shakes his head a little bit. “Who knows, honestly,” he says, and then he takes another sip. 

He means it as a joke, is the thing, except it maybe doesn’t quite land, because he maybe isn’t quite joking as much as he should be, and when he looks up, Tito’s kind of staring at him. 

“Uh,” Tito says.

Mat chokes on his coffee. It’s not one of his finer moments. 

“Sorry,” he says, once he’s mostly recovered, at least from the choking part. “Sorry, I’m—” 

“No, it’s cool, I just zoned out,” Tito says, which is, like, definitely not true, because he’s blushing really hard right now, and Mat’s not sure how to wrap this up neatly without accidentally implying that he’s not into Tito—because he very much is, which he’s just, like, kind of realizing right now—so instead of saying anything else, he just nods once and books it out of the coffee shop.   

It’s—okay, objectively, it’s bad. 

Like, really, really bad. 

Realizing and confessing your feelings all in one gulp of coffee is definitely less than ideal, but—okay. Mat can work with this. 

At the very least, he can put it out of his head and do his job. 

 

_ five.  _

Mat hasn’t been to Tito’s in a few days. 

Dante’s still in town, and he tells himself it’s because of that. It’s not like Mat goes there every single morning, anyway; sometimes he wakes up early enough to make coffee for himself, and twice a week, other people are in charge of opening up the shop, so Mat doesn’t go out of his way to stop by. 

“So, when are you going to introduce me to your boyfriend?” Dante asks, when Mat gets home from work. 

“My what?” Mat says. 

“The coffee dude,” Dante says. “The guy who, like, invented espresso and making you smile like an idiot, or whatever.”

“He’s not—he’s just a barista.” 

“I’ve never heard anyone talk about ‘just a barista’ as much as you talk about this guy, but okay,” Dante says. 

Mat really doesn’t need this, honestly. “We don’t have to see him.” 

“I thought you went there, like, every day,” Dante says. “You haven’t taken me there once. C’mon, I thought I was gonna see Barzy’s New York.” 

“It’s just a coffee place,” Mat says. 

“A Brooklyn coffee place,” Dante says. “I haven’t seen nearly enough hipsters since I’ve been here, dude.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then what’s it like?”

“Just—coffee,” Mat says. “And Tito’s pretty chill, but it’s really just the place across the street from me. Nothing special.” It feels like a lie, even though it’s not, really—sure, it’s his spot, but it’s not like there’s anything about it that makes it special in any objective sense, save for one blue-eyed barista.

Dante must pick up on the hesitation in Mat’s voice, because he says, “Well, I wanna go anyway.”

“Fine,” Mat says, relenting. “I need caffeine to deal with you.”

“Right, because I’m the high maintenance one in this friendship,” Dante says. 

Mat rolls his eyes, but Dante isn’t exactly wrong—he’s an exceptionally chill person, Mat can admit, and he’ll give credit where credit is due. 

But Dante’s still his friend, so Mat won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting that to his face.

 

It’s noon, so Tito’s place is pretty crowded when they walk in, and Mat fidgets as they wait in line, and even though he knows Tito probably knows he’s here, he tries to keep other customers between him and the counter, just so he doesn’t have to worry about being directly in Tito’s line of sight. 

“Dude,” Dante says, “what’s up with you?”

“It’s nothing,” Mat says. 

“I thought you said this guy was chill,” Dante says. 

“He is.”

“Then why are you acting like you’re afraid he’s gonna beat you up?” Dante asks. “It’s sketchy as fuck.” 

“Why do you care?” Mat asks. 

“Because you’re being weird,” Dante says. “It’s funny.” 

“I hate you,” Mat says, matter-of-fact. 

“Aw, c’mon, tell me what’s up with you and him,” Dante says. “Did you two used to bone, or something?” 

“Wh—shut up, what the fuck,” Mat says. “Just drop it, okay?” 

“Oh, no way, that totally hit a nerve,” Dante says. “So what, did you ghost on him?”

“I never slept with him.” 

“That’s definitely not true.” 

“Can you—” Mat shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “Look, I’m into him, and I accidentally said something weird, okay?” 

“Oh,” Dante says. “That’s it?” 

“That’s it.”

Dante considers that for a second, and then, decisively “Nah, I feel like you two boned.” 

Mat groans. “Why are you the worst?” 

“You love me,” Dante says, and then the person in front of them finishes ordering, and Dante steps up to the counter. 

Mat hopes beyond all hope that he acts normal. 

“Hey,” Dante says to Tito, his voice casual, “you’ve never seen my friend here naked, right?” 

So, no to that one, then. 

“Jesus christ, don’t bother people at work,” Mat says. 

“What? I thought you two were friends,” Dante says. 

“Uh, no,” Tito says, and Mat’s heart starts to sink until Tito quickly adds, “I mean, no to seeing him naked.” 

“But you are friends,” Dante says. 

“Yes,” Mat says. “Y’know what, I’ll cover your drink, you go find a place to sit.” 

Dante pouts. “You didn’t even introduce us.” 

“Dante, Tito, Tito, Dante,” Mat says. “Now please leave.” 

“You’re a terrible host,” Dante says, but he heads off anyway.

Mat turns back to TIto, who looks something between amused and bemused, which is promising. 

“Anyway,” Mat says, his face turning red. “I’ll have two large lattes, to stay. And, uh, I’m sorry about him.” 

“You’re good,” Tito says, and he seems like his usual good-natured self, but something’s off. “I, um—I haven’t seen you around, recently.” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” Mat says, running a nervous hand through his hair.

“It’s fine, I just hope you’re not trying to give up coffee,” Tito says. “Which is great for some people, but you wake up way too early for work.” 

“Yeah, no, I’ve just been making it myself,” Mat says. 

“Ah,” Tito says. “And that was—Dante, you said?” 

“That’s my buddy from back home, yeah,” Mat says. “He’s usually normal, but we’ve known each other too long.” 

“So he’s an old friend?” 

“Yeah, our families know each other,” Mat says. “He just likes to give me crap, I guess.” 

“Old friends are like that, sometimes,” Tito says, his voice neutral. 

“Guess so,” Mat says, and then he stuffs his hands in his pockets and takes a breath. “So, uh, the other day—” 

Tito’s head shoots up. “Yeah?” 

“I—” Mat shakes his head a little. “Actually, no, I shouldn’t—you’re at work.” 

“No, it’s cool,” Tito says, a little breathless. “There’s no one else in line.” 

“But you have drinks to make,” Mat says. “It’s fine, I can wait until it’s a little quieter.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” Mat says. “I mean, we’re gonna stay here for a bit.” 

“Doesn’t your friend wanna see New York?” 

“Well, he said he wanted to see my New York,” Mat says. “And I spend a lot of time here.” 

“Right,” Tito says, smiling. “So you’re giving him an authentic experience.” 

“Yeah, not even the best travel agent can give you this level of care,” Mat says, grinning right back. “So, uh. I’ll be around.” 

“So will I,” Tito says. “Making coffee.” 

“Cool,” Mat says. “And when you have a break, I’ll, uh, ask you out, then.” 

The words take both of them by surprise, and Mat’s not sure he’s ready to hear an answer, so he continues.

“So, uh, think it over, and give me an answer then.” 

“Right,” Tito says. “I’m just gonna—” he holds up two mugs. “Lattes.” 

“Go forth,” Mat says, and then he winces at his own awkwardness. 

Dante got them a table by the window, and took the seat facing the counter, and Mat considers asking him to move so he can watch Tito work, but he figures he doesn’t need to be chirped for this any more. 

“Hey,” Dante says, not looking up from his phone. “How’s the bone-rista?” 

“How long did it take you to come up with that?” Mat asks as he sits down. 

“I didn’t,” Dante says. “That was from Jake.” 

“Oh, great, so your boyfriend is as terrible as you are,” Mat says. 

“Don’t front, he’s the best,” Dante says. “But seriously, what was that about?” 

“I told you before, I’m, like, into him, or whatever.” 

“And that’s why it took you five minutes to order a latte?” 

Mat bites his lip. “I was just following up on that front, I guess.” 

“What does that even mean?” Dante says. 

“I don’t know,” Mat says. “I might’ve asked him out. Or, like, told him I was gonna.” 

Dante looks up from his phone. “Seriously?” 

“Yeah,” Mat says. “Why’s that such a surprise?” 

“I dunno, I wouldn’t expect you to be, like, nervous about that,” Dante says. 

“Why not?” 

“You’re on TV,” Dante says. “You’re good at talking to people, and stuff.” 

“But that’s—” Mat says. “I guess, but I still like him.” 

“I mean, yeah, no shit,” Dante says. “You talk about this coffee place all the time.” 

“The coffee’s good too,” Mat says, defensive. 

“No coffee is that good,” Dante says, and Mat throws a sugar packet at him as he laughs. 

A few minutes later, he hears Tito call out their order, and Mat goes up to get it. 

“Hey, so, when you ask me out,” Tito says, his eyes fixed on where he’s wiping off the counter, “will you stop coming here if I say no?”

Mat deflates a little. “I mean, probably not,” he says honestly. “Unless you want me to? But, like, no hard feelings, if that’s what you mean.” 

“Right,” Tito says. “And if I say yes?” 

Mat’s pretty sure his heart stops beating. “What?” he says, a little dazed.

“If I say yes,” Tito repeats, still moving the rag in rhythmic swirls. “Will you still come by? Or were you only pretending to like my coffee?” 

“I—” Mat blinks. “No, your coffee is pretty great.” 

“So no matter what I say, I’ll still have to see your face around here, bright and early?” 

“More or less,” Mat says. “I mean, you did get a TV just so you could have my face around here even more.”

“That’s true,” Tito says, and Mat can see now that he’s smiling. 

“Does whether or not I keep buying coffee from you affect your answer?”

“Not really,” Tito admits. 

“Alright,” Mat says. “Well, in that case, what are you doing tomorrow night?” 

Tito finally looks up, this stupid, awesome half-grin on his lips. “I guess I’m getting dinner with my favorite customer,” he says. “You might know him? He’s kind of famous.” 

“Oh, he is, eh?” Mat says, and he knows he’s grinning like an idiot, but he really doesn’t care enough to try and stop it. 

“Yeah, he’s on TV,” Tito says. “He’s a pretty big deal, he gets stopped for autographs—” 

“Oh my god, that was one time,” Mat says, laughing a bit as he scratches at the back of his neck, nervous. “So, uh, tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow,” Tito says. 

“See you then,” Mat says, trying to not grin like an idiot and failing miserable.

He gets all the way back to his table before he realizes he forgot the coffee, and Dante gives him a pointed look before he goes to get it himself. 

“Dude, you’ve got it bad,” Dante says, setting their mugs on the table. 

“We never speak of that again,” Mat says.

“Sure,” Dante says, like he doesn’t believe him, and then he takes a sip of his latte. 

“So?”

Dante raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, alright,” he says. “The coffee really is that good.” 

 

_ (plus one.) _

Mat isn’t expecting Tito to be there when he’s done shooting for the day, but he’s pretty fucking happy about it anyway.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Mat says, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “I thought you were covering a shift.” 

“Nah, that’s tomorrow,” Tito says. 

“So you came all the way to Manhattan just to say hi?” Mat says, grinning. 

Tito looks sheepish at that. “I mean, that was definitely one reason.” 

“There’s more than one reason?”

“Well,” Tito says, looking at the ground, “I may have locked my keys in the apartment.” 

Mat lets out a surprised laugh. “Are you for real, right now?” 

“In my defense, I had my wallet and phone with me, I was fine,” Tito says. “The only reason I left was because we were out of coffee grounds.” 

“So did you get coffee across the street?” Mat says. 

Tito shrugs, and gives Mat a grin like he’s trying to be cute. “It looked crowded?” 

“You’re literally the manager,” Mat says. “You can probably get away with cutting the line.” 

“But I feel bad doing that,” Tito says. “Plus, it was a new hire behind the counter, and I didn’t want to make her nervous.” 

Mat really doesn’t think Tito’s employees could be that intimidated by him, but he doesn’t think it would be helpful to point that out. “So what did you end up doing?” 

“I came here,” Tito says. “Because I missed your face.” 

Mat smiles. “You’re such a dork,” he says. “Did you stop at Timmies, or something?”

“Nah,” Tito says. 

“Starbucks?” 

“Nope.” 

“Dunkin?” 

Tito shakes his head. 

“Then where?” Mat asks. 

“Uh,” Tito says, “nowhere?” 

Mat stares at him. “You haven’t had coffee all day?” 

“That would be correct,” Tito says. 

“Are you, like, okay?” 

“No, not at all,” Tito says. “I think I might be dying, actually.” 

“Okay, we’re getting you some coffee,” Mat says, grabbing Tito’s hand and leading him out the door. “There’s a place across the street I’ve been meaning to try for ages.” 

“Why haven’t you?” 

“There’s only so much money I can justify spending on coffee,” Mat says. “Plus, unlike you, I can’t make it out of Brooklyn without caffeine.”

“Aw, what a loyal customer,” Tito says. 

“What can I say,” Mat says. “I’m a man who likes good coffee.” 

“It’s a good thing I have good coffee, then,” Tito says. 

“And a few other good things,” Mat says, giving Tito’s hand a squeeze. 

“Just a few, though.”

“Obviously,” Mat says, resting his head on Tito’s shoulder.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [title insp](https://www.instagram.com/p/BC7F9LXTQr0/?taken-by=barzal97)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] face for the radio](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16123922) by [eafay70](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eafay70/pseuds/eafay70)




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